


Come What May

by WickedScribbles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Bonding, But a bare minimum plot I swear, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, F/M, Fluff, Force Bond Sexual Situations (Star Wars), I got way into describing the Force, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Obi-Wan is a Switch, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sassmaster Obi, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft Obi-Wan Kenobi, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Switching, Tags May Change, The Force Ships It (Star Wars), Wet Dream, oops there's plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedScribbles/pseuds/WickedScribbles
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi is many things. Jedi Master, General, respected teacher and notoriously sharp of wit. But does he break the Jedi Code in what is perhaps the most tempting of ways, as so many others secretly have? You're about to find out. Obi-Wan/Reader pairing, set in the Clone Wars. A collection of loosely connected stories with little to no plot, just the sexy stuff.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi is fast asleep. It’s kind of sweet, really. He’s curled in a loose ball on his side, facing away from you in the tawdry shelter the two of you’d managed to throw together. Not that it does much good in the deep jungles of Odryn. Assigned first watch but sensing nothing, all your eyes want to track is the loose rise and fall of his back. There’s no need for it in the heat, but he’s thrown his cloak over himself anyway. Probably to gain a sense of privacy in the somewhat open space. The only thing peeking out from the loose brown material of it is his head and a piece of shoulder. 

But that’s not what’s piqued your interest. 

What makes you unable to look away -- he’s not really _doing_ anything captivating after all -- is the sudden shift his Force signature has taken. Normally he’d keep his life Force guarded, always aware of what was around him. You _are_ in a war, after all. Even among friends, fellow Jedi, he never seems to fully relax it. Not like this. 

The thing that had alerted you to the change was a…satisfying sensation pouring over and through the somewhat reserved Jedi master. It was so unfamiliar to him, in fact, that it took you several seconds of concentrating on what it felt like from his perspective to even realize what it was. _Pleasure_. 

_Whatever he's dreaming about,_ you think, crossing your legs, _it must be nice_. Or more likely whoever. It wouldn't exactly be polite of you to poke further into his Force, get a closer look at the sensations, but then again. Obi-Wan's mind wasn't exactly being quiet. The longer you sat there and tried to ignore it, to use your training to block him out, the more insistent it seemed to become. 

You knew he was strong with the Force, but this is almost too much. Was it not enough to be assigned with General, Master, Obi-Wan for one of your first missions as a Knight? The man has always treated you with kindness and respect, if not a little distance. You've longed to know him better since you were a Padawan -- stars, the tales they told in the Temple. Were half of them true? 

Another wave rushes through the Force, and you're helpless to shut it out completely. "Kriffing hells," you grit under your breath. Thank _Someone_ that you're the only two out here. You're not sure that you would have been able to hide your reaction to this any better than you're trying to now. 

Then you hear his breath hitch -- the slightest tremble on wit-sharp lips. A two-tiered inhale that might as well have been in your ear. No denying it now-- you're wet. In the worst of situations, but unable to help it. Your core is pulsing, aching with borrowed waves of something you don't even understand. 

You drag your eyes off of Obi-Wan, sparing a thought for what you're actually supposed to be doing. _There's not a damn thing in this armpit of a jungle except for us._ Watch duty is only a formality, a precaution. And you much prefer to watch him. 

As if he read your mind, Obi-Wan shifts, turning over. The emotions coming from him settle for a moment, like a ripple fanning to the edges of a pond. You freeze, unable or unwilling to imagine what your face or Force signature would look like should he wake. Thankfully, he doesn't stir. 

Now that he's facing you, you can't help but smile to see how... _soft_ he looks in sleep. Relaxed, younger. Copper hair spills over his forehead, falling out of its usual neat part. Long lashes nearly dust his fair-skinned cheeks. His mouth is slightly ajar, and as you watch, he closes and opens it again, whispering something you can't catch. He's wrapped himself even tighter in the cloak, fingers flexing over the edge of the dark brown material. 

_Cute_ , you think, certain that the assertion was far too loud. Thoughts like this about Kenobi are... _common_ for you. How can they not be? There's something about him that goes beyond looks, though he's obviously attractive. Obi-Wan is contradictory in ways that no other Master seems to be. He's a Jedi, but you know he has his small comforts. And though his body is built for combat after years of training, you can't help but notice that there's a softness to it, too. A gentleness that was never made clear until now. It makes you wonder what he'd be like had the Jedi Order not taken him in. 

_Hush_ , you remind yourself. _If he catches you thinking like this…_ Under normal circumstances you could mute it, but this mission is shaking your control to its core. 

A smile stretches his mouth for the briefest of moments, and you panic. Has he heard you? Will he remember any of this? 

His brow furrows. You watch as he trembles ever so slightly, in contrast to the heat. A ping of distress echoes through the Force connection, muddled by slumber and confusion. Your first instinct is to reach back, to ask what troubles his sleeping mind through the bond you've unknowingly forged. 

But you pause, hanging back a moment to see where this will go. Behind that pang of distress lingers the same _ache_ of desire, threatening to flare up strong as before. Tentative, you open up to him, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. 

His life Force rubs against your own like an eager Loth cat, like it'd been waiting for affection from you. It feels like basking in pure sunshine -- not this damp, humid hellscape. Like a sip of warm tea after you've been freezing cold. It feels like the brush of your hand on a whiskered cheek and a genuine laugh from a man who hardly gets to. You taste cedarwood and cinnamon on the roof of your mouth. _It's pure Obi-Wan,_ you realize, going dizzy from the rush. 

"Can't," he whispers, so softly you barely catch it. "Not...no." Even as he slurs the words of denial, still sounding posh in his sleep, the feeling of attraction and curiosity grow _wider_. 

_It's okay,_ you try to tell him, sending a feeling of calmness. _We're safe here_. 

He doesn't respond with thoughts of his own -- you didn't expect him to. Instead, the whorl of Force energy spins even faster, flashing colors before your closed eyes. Grey blue purple red. Confusion hope shame _desire_ , all of it coated with desire thick and sticky, refusing to unglue itself from anything. Your heart is thudding in the base of your throat, and the sweat that slicks your forehead isn't all from Odryn's jungle heat.

Another small sound from the sleeping Obi-Wan makes you open an eye. A muffled whimper, stifled by a bitten lip. His hands tighten where they grip the material of the cloak, going white-knuckled. You watch his expression turn to one of desperation as everything is swept aside for the feeling of desire, tinged with need. " _Please_ ," he breathes. 

Oh gods. If he wakes up now, you'll be in a world of trouble. But how can you deny him? Obi-Wan's Force is still begging for yours, as needy as a lover's, and his breathing has gone to shallow pants. 

There's nothing left for it. You go deeper into him than a sane version of you would ever dare, touching the edge of his dream with a finger and then plunging in completely. Obi-Wan shudders, unconsciously aware that you've joined him, but otherwise remains asleep. 

The dream plays out like you're viewing a holotape from underwater -- hazy and hard to keep track of at parts. 

_You're walking down a hall in the Temple, one that you would have no reason to be in. It's the Master's quarters. Everyone has a room here, whether they use it or not. Your steps echo, seeming to go on forever, until you pause in front of a door. Master Kenobi's door._

_Not pausing to knock, you enter, like you can hardly wait to get to what's inside. Sprawled across the bed -- same size as your own, Jedi don't need comforts after all -- is -- it's -- it's_ you. _You smile, not wearing anything except for your own brown cloak, leaving little to the imagination. "I've been waiting for quite some time, Master."_

Surprised, you withdraw from the dream with a gasp. If you'd be in the room...then… Then you'd been viewing the dream from Master Kenobi's perspective. Of course. It _was_ his dream, after all. 

Almost the moment you withdraw, Obi-Wan seems to know. His eyebrows knit together again and a wave of alarm peaks through the Force. You fear it will be enough to wake him. 

_Here, right here,_ you project. 

_Gone,_ comes a one word reply, coherent before fizzling back into feelings. 

_???_

Your wordless wave of shock-confusion at getting an answer can't be helped, but he's already back in the dream. A part of you wonders if anything like this has even happened before. 

Before you can get too philosophical, Obi-Wan shrugs off his cloak, and -- _oh_. Oh dear. Your eyes widen when you realize that yes, you _are_ in fact staring at his fully erect cock straining the material of his trousers. The pants are a medium shade of brown, but you don't miss the damp spot where his cockhead pushes upward.

 _Oh fuck_ , you think. There are no doubts. He's dreaming about you, hungry for _you_. Gulping in a shaky breath, you mingle with him again, and this time he doesn't just feel like sunshine and tea. He feels...breathless. Eager. Images flicker under your eyelids, images of _you_. 

He shows you how your muscles glisten after a round of sparring. The way your braid bounces down the middle of your back as you walk. The curve of your breasts. The shape of your lips and how they sometimes distract him from what you're saying. The high tinkling of your laugh echoing through the halls of the Temple, unmistakable though he can’t see you. 

With a small moan, you push back, giving him your own observations. The way his eyes crinkle with kindness or wit. The grace of his movement, from the way he walks to the way he makes wielding a lightsaber look like a dance. The tenor of his voice going right to the core of you. The fantasy of each gentle reposition during a lesson turning into _more_ , turning into him _having_ you, however he wanted. 

That last particularly strong wave of thought makes his cock twitch in his pants, and the broken sound he utters is bliss. 

Daring to go further, you twine your energy through his, painting your own picture of what would happen should you ever actually find yourself in his room. 

_You peek up at Master Kenobi through your lashes, loving how flustered he looks. You know he wants this, wants_ you, _but he's also unsure of how to proceed. There are Jedi all around, after all. You'll have to be quiet._ If _you can._

Unable to hold back any longer, you slide a hand under your pants and caress your wet slit, putting a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. In front of you, Obi-Wan's head tilts back, giving you a gorgeous view of his exposed throat. The damp spot on his trousers is widening, pre-come spreading through his underwear. 

_"Come here, Master," you beckon._

_He's on you in a second, hands trailing up and down your bare arms, blue eyes burning fire on your body. "Closer," you grin. He shoots you a mock-exasperated look when he closes the distance between your lips, starting off soft and light. His beard tickles a little, but you try not to pull away. After a few seconds, these gentle touches are not enough._

You're two fingers deep inside yourself now, thrusting into the feeling. Needing to be filled. Your thumb slides desperately over your clit, pulling the coil of release tighter and tighter in your belly. " _Fuck... Obi-Wan…_ " you whisper into your hand, spiraling out of whatever little control you had left. 

_You trail your lips down, past the roughness of his beard to his neck. Obi-Wan lets out a shuddering sigh and bares it for you -- wanting to be vulnerable for you. In truth, you have no clue how much sexual experience he has -- and that only excites you more. At the same time, you grab his hips and guide him onto the mattress, switching places so that you're on top. His anticipatory whine is sharp in your ear as you straddle him, sucking purple marks into the perfect light skin of his neck. Grabbing a handful of his hair, you tug, trying to expose more of his neck to kiss._

_"Oh!" Obi-Wan cries out, cock flexing on your naked leg._

_"You like that?" you purr, nuzzling further down to lick his collarbone._

" _I -- I --_ yes," _Master Kenobi replies, and for once the great negotiator is speechless, stuttering under you._

_You laugh quietly, taking in a deep breath of his scent. You press your crotch deep into his, feeling his length rub against your center. Your slick is getting all over his tidy clothes, making a wet spot between his legs._

_"Oh-h, gods --"_

_"You're going to_ love _this._ " 

Ripping yourself out of the projection, you come on a stifled shriek. Mingling with Obi-Wan's life Force makes it so much _better_ , even if he's not entirely aware of what's going on. Almost like his lips are brushing your ear as you thrust through it, watching your body shake through each powerful wave. 

Obi-Wan feels it too. Rolling over onto his back, you watch as he ruts his hips into the air, desperate breaths catching in his throat. The rub of material against his crotch must provide minimum relief, if any. Spikes of need are outweighing his pleasure now and a train of thought almost _tears_ through you -- _pleasepleasepleasesocloseIcanfeelitrighttherepleaseIwantit_

Still weak from your orgasm, you calm your mind enough to go back to what you'd been showing him. Obi-Wan's Force _trembles_ into yours. 

_You thrust into his clothed dick, forcing gasps from him every time._

_"Sweetest," he gulps, melting against the bed as you give it to him harder, "dear one -- I can't -- won't last this way --"_

_"I don't mind," you reply, almost as worked up as he is. You reach between his legs and squeeze. "Come for me, Master Kenobi. You know you want to."_

You snap to attention as Obi-Wan lets out a half-sob, half-groan. "Oh, _yes_ ," he says, hoarse with sleep but clearly on the brink of coming. Your own chest heaves, licking your lips as his desire and your own mingle, inseparable. His hips push again into empty air once, twice, thrice, and then -- 

"Yes, yes, _yes -- oh, stars, ohhh-h --!_ " 

The orgasm rips through him, so intense through your Force bond that you come on the spot as well, soaking your underwear. You feel him flooding his own with spurts of hot come, pulse after pulse. It just doesn't _stop_. Tears are filling your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of it all. His face is screwed up in utter bliss, mouth slightly ajar. Through the Force, elation and relief pour through as it finally stops. 

And then his life Force, curled up with yours so cozily throughout this whole ordeal, _lurches_ away. Before it slams itself off from you entirely, you get a shot of alarm, of cold, all-encompassing _fear_. Two seconds later, Obi-Wan Kenobi's eyes pop open. 

_Oh shit_. 

You don't have to read his Force signature to know that he knows. In one flick of the wrist, he’s thrown the robe over his waist. Scrambling to sit up, he faces you and crosses his legs primly. As quick as he was to grasp what had happened, there’s no way to hide the high blush creeping over his fair skin. You know that you’re in no better shape -- your hair disheveled, face positively _burning_ with embarrassment. In your lap, your fingers are still wet with your own slick. 

“So,” says Obi-Wan, going for a casual tone and not quite landing. “My turn to take watch, then?”


	2. Chapter 2

After the awkward ship ride home to Coruscant, Master Obi-Wan seems to make it his mission to stay as far away from you as possible. In the Temple, this isn't hard to do; most floors and rooms were meant to hold dozens, if not hundreds of people, and Obi-Wan knows its halls better than most. 

It’s admirable, how he’s managed to vanish in a place that adores him so much. _Have you seen Master Obi-Wan?_ is always followed by, _Oh, you just missed him_ or _No, I haven’t seen him_. The most you’ve been able to see in weeks is the edge of his cloak slipping around a corner. A startled look over his shoulder as he flees the gardens, realizing that you’re meditating there, too. If you’re both attending a council meeting, you swear he ignores you so vehemently that you start to doubt your own existence. 

And his life Force? Forget about it. He's shoved it down so tightly that he might as well not exist to _you_. You find yourself pining for it. If he's determined to never interact with you again, you had hoped to at least feel his Force touch yours, even in a friendly way. It's almost as if he yanked a part of your own essence away when he withdrew that night in Odryn. Something feels _missing_ from you. In the mess hall, you start asking for cinnamon tea. It tastes flavorless. 

In some ironic twist, now _you're_ the one tormented by dreams. But each one leaves you right on the edge, with no one to reach out to. Alone in your quiet room, gasping for air as the details of the dream drain away the more awake you become. _Obi-Wan. Smirking down at your naked body. Hands. Tongues. Breath. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan._ Each time it happens, you bring yourself to climax, face muffled deep into your pillow, biting down a cry of his name. 

Hesitant, you touch the thick cloud of life Force all around you. You have to swallow the bile rising in your throat. It's like slogging through floodwaters with Jedi on all sides; far too overwhelming. You have to pull out almost immediately, the sensation akin to being drowned under the weight of _information_.

You can feel the signatures of every Force-sensitive in the Temple, from the smallest youngling all the way to Master Yoda. They all have a presence. Lying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling with a fading sense of nausea. If you ever want to speak with Obi-Wan again, you’re going to have to get better at this. 

Two more weeks pass before you can re-enter this headspace. Inhale, exhale. Don't try too hard to keep a rhythm. Body relaxed. Mind at ease. Then...you dive in. 

_Lit candles and a holonovel. Leaning on an old cane. The smell of blaster fire. Giggling and playing tag with your creche mates. Lying in a medbay bed, watching sunlight streak the window. Feeling fear wrench in your gut at the thought that this war might never end. Watching your Padawan twirl her sabers, her lekku flying behind her. Sitting cross-legged in the library tower, thinking about things you shouldn't._

The last one is him -- it has to be. There’s no other Force here that feels like this; the same mix of emotions run through it that you felt before. But now, they feel muted, pushed down under a working consciousness. You’re not sure you would’ve been able to sense it at all, had you not already made the connection. 

Though you're still reeling from a dozen other sensations, you get to your feet. The library’s halfway across the Temple -- you trip and nearly fall flat in your haste to get there in time. Your urgency earns you more than a few strange looks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You don’t even have a plan for what to say when you get there; all you know is that you need to see him again. 

You slow to a walk when you reach the library’s entrance, trying to blend in with those coming and going. It’s the middle of the afternoon, the perfect time of day to be here if you wanted to go unnoticed. Younglings have just been released from their lessons, roaming the aisles. They chatter at a poorly managed volume, despite their minder’s warning. Older Masters roam to and fro as well. Some are glued to holodisplays, others watch the younglings play with fond smiles. 

_But where are_ you, _Master Kenobi?_

Dodging a group of Padawans, you scan the perimeter. Nodding hellos and exchanging brief greetings, your heart begins to drop the longer you investigate. _It wasn’t him._ All that work, for you to be wrong. Whatever connection had occurred on that mission is unwanted on his end -- so much that he's actively pretending that you aren't alive. Jedi are supposed to be good at letting go of attachments -- are _forbidden_ from forming them -- so why does this sting? You turn to the library’s exit, fist clenched tight. Then, you hear it. 

“Thanks, Master Kenobi!” 

“Of course, Padawan. Any time.” 

A short Rhodesian girl darts past you, beaming as she holds her unlit lightsaber with newfound determination. 

Only years of discipline and training keep you from bolting past _her_ like a Jawa to a shipwreck. Taking a deep breath, you round the corner. There he _is. Finally._ Sitting cross-legged, just as you’d seen him through the Force, warmed by the sun coming in through one of the high windows. He doesn’t look up when you spot him -- his brow is furrowed ( _like it was when he -- no, not here_ ) like what he’s reading is too important to take his eyes off of. 

Is it your imagination, or has he gotten prettier since you’ve had the chance to get a good look at him? His hair’s longer -- it’s starting to curl near his ears. The beard’s a little bushier, but still well kept. Obi-Wan brings a hand to his mouth, stroking it lightly. _Maker_. You swear the ghost sensation of the hair is still tickling your lips, though it’s never really been there. 

Well, you didn’t track him down to stare. 

You walk over to his small table in the corner, and he only looks up when your hand is on the back of the unoccupied chair. _Must be one fascinating holotext._ If your heart wasn’t pounding, you might have laughed at the expression that crossed Obi-Wan’s face before he composed himself. His eyebrows threatened to disappear right into his hairline. How many people could say that they’d caught Master Kenobi off guard in such a manner? 

“Master,” you greet, bowing in a show of respect. “May I have a word with you?” You have to pull your hand off of the chair so that he can’t see it trembling. 

For a moment he looks at you, apparently lost for words. You wish you knew what he was thinking -- or even better, could feel his life Force mingled with yours. You practically _grieve_ it with him right in front of you, but unable to feel a thing. It’s torture, waiting for him to either accept or dismiss you with no hint about which he’ll do. At last, with the smallest of sighs, he closes the holotext and straightens. 

“I suppose I can spare a moment,” says Obi-Wan, getting to his feet. “Come with me.” 

Feeling like a youngling again, you follow him out of the library and into a hall that you’ve hardly ever been down. Together, you pass no one but a few busy cleaning droids. Neither one of you says a word as he pauses in front of a door, keying in a code. Looking around to make sure that no one’s watching, Obi-Wan waves you in before he follows. The door locks behind him. 

It’s an abandoned training room. Still clean due to the presence of droids, it’s nonetheless clear that no living thing has set foot in here for some time. Wooden sparring sticks lie in a pile next to the door, and an outdated holoprojector sits in the far corner. The small size surprises you -- a room this large would likely only hold around half a dozen students. You imagine that’s why it’s no longer used. 

“Please, sit.” Master Obi-Wan gestures to a floor mat, and you drop onto it obediently. He mirrors your assumed posture, back straight and ankles crossed. As if this was an out-of-the-way meditation session, not a tense confrontation that you’d been trying to have for weeks. 

“You’re a hard man to find, Master,” you say, hoping to break the tension. 

He ducks his head, the slightest hint of color creeping over his cheeks. “Yes. Well. War does keep one busy.” You watch his fingers drum on top of his knee, a habit never seen before. Is he anxious? 

You nod. “Of course. And yet I notice that I haven’t been assigned any more missions.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue. 

“Our... mission on Odryn seemed to meet the Council’s standards.” Your tone is light, cautious. It’s true that you’ve been stuck in the Temple since then, with many other Knights coming and going. Hard not to believe that Obi-Wan hasn’t had a hand in where you get assigned. Or if. 

Obi-Wan takes in a sharp breath, turning away. _Was that going too far?_ He’s silent a moment before speaking, his tone lower than you’re used to hearing it. “Young one, I...that is to say...accompanying you that day was a mistake.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a look familiar to you from watching him chase Anakin Skywalker around. 

You’re genuinely curious when you ask what he means. 

“What I _mean_ is--” the blush on his face is darkening, and you lower your eyes, biting off a smile. _Cute,_ your mind tells you again. 

“I knew that there was -- that I -- _felt_ something toward you. That offering myself as a volunteer to go with you on the Odryn mission was a poor choice. That my thoughts would -- that _I_ might --” He breaks off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Yet I went anyway. I am _so_ sorry for what followed.” Obi-Wan looks ashamed, not meeting your eyes when you go searching for his. 

_Ashamed? Sorry? Poor choice?_ That’s...the complete opposite of how you feel. 

_Felt something toward you!_ Your brain screams in retaliation, alight with joy that you hadn’t hallucinated the whole ordeal. 

“Do you...remember anything?” you ask timidly. “The dream?” 

“I remember enough,” he replies, not seeming to want to discuss it further. “Enough to be consumed with guilt for what you had to witness. I assure you -- I _swear_ \-- that every moment since has been dedicated to severing the bond I mistakenly forged. To improving myself as a Jedi.” 

For several seconds, you have no clue what he could mean. Then it hits -- he thinks that everything that happened was all his doing. That you were a bystander, a -- a _victim_. 

“Obi-Wan,” you stammer. You’ve never called him that before, and it feels far too intimate once it leaves your mouth. He looks up, blue eyes full of chagrin. “Did you really think that was all you?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” 

“Can I...could I just show you?” You swallow. _Oh please I’ve missed you, please_. 

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, then frowns, seeming to think better of it. After a moment of hesitation he simply closes his eyes and inclines his head, an invitation. So relieved you could cry, you close your eyes in turn and drop your shoulders, relaxing. _Yes, oh stars, yes. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan_. 

When you reach, the door to his life Force is open -- barely ajar, but open all the same. This time you’re the eager one, the neglected one, and your Force greets him like a long lost friend. He wraps around you, hesitant but willing to take you, to listen. You feel tears slip down your face before pushing harder. 

Sunshine, tea, cinnamon, cedarwood, shame shame _shame_. His purest parts clouded with it, making your chest ache so deep you can’t catch a proper breath. This isn’t right. This isn’t the whole picture. You long to make him understand. To let him know that you want him every bit as much as he wanted you that day, and so you flex forward and _show_. 

You hear him gasp from the sheer _volume_ of it. All your desire, watching him sleep and dream of you. Feeling the ebb and flow of his thoughts and thinking you’d never touched a more beautiful life Force. Watching his fantasy about you and feeding back one of your own. When you play back your affection toward him -- before Odryn and after -- he makes the smallest sound under his breath. And when you show him how you came just from _feeling_ his orgasm, right there on the jungle floor, he withdraws from your mind so painfully it feels like a blow to the head. 

“Stop,” he chokes out, eyes wild. “I -- I get the picture.” His hands clench tight to the material of his robes, arms crossed over his midsection. 

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, wiping your face. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you -- but you need to know. It’s not just you.” 

Both hands bridge in front of Obi-Wan’s mouth as he stares straight ahead. “I'm not sure if this is better or worse.” 

“ _Why_?” You lean forward, unable to keep the desperate note out of your voice. “Master -- Obi-Wan -- I don’t see the issue. This appears to be… _highly_ mutual.” You let your eyes dart down to his waist, which he’s still keeping hidden from you. He catches your look and bites his lip, and _never_ in your life have you wanted to break a rule more. Because you know exactly what he’s going to say before he even has a chance to explain. 

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he sighs, shifting under your gaze. “You know why. The Code -- attachments are exactly the sort of thing we can’t have.” But you can hear how his breathing’s gone shallow and shaky. His own eyes are lingering on your mouth, like he’s imagining if you taste like you do in his dreams. 

“I think that’s an outdated rule.” You cross your arms, not missing the way his gaze now bounces down to your lifted breasts. “You’re attached to Anakin. _And_ his Padawan, Ahsoka.” 

“That’s…” Obi-Wan sighs. 

“If either were about to die on the battlefield, would you not run to save them? Or leave it to fate?” You quirk an eyebrow, knowing his answer. 

“I suppose you’ve got me there. But that’s not -- not the same attachment. It’s familial, not -- _this_.” He glances up at you shyly. “I can say with full confidence that Anakin has never tempted me in the ways that you have.” 

“You’re one of the only people in the Temple he hasn’t, then,” you laugh, trying not to bask in the thought that he’s just said you _tempt_ him. Obi-Wan grins back. A bit of that sunbeam feeling returns, though his Force is nowhere near yours at the moment. 

“Anakin has a...fast and loose relationship with the Jedi Code. Even more so now that I am no longer his Master,” he chuckles. “Still. I have to assert that this is a different matter.” 

“Hmm.” You frown, feigning contemplation though your mind is already set. “What if we... promise _not_ to get attached? To fall in love? Would that feel safe enough for you?” A long shot. 

Obi-Wan shakes his head, giving you a sad sort of smile. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible, dear. I’ve seen your thoughts. You’ve seen mine.” _The seeds have already sprouted_ , he doesn’t say. 

Unable to help it, you scoot closer until your knees touch his. “That’s too bad. I -- I really wanted to kiss you, Master.” 

And there -- you’ve struck a nerve. Simply addressing him as _Master_ in such a sweet, plaintive tone is enough. Obi-Wan practically flinches, lips pressed tight together. His eyes are bright and longing, looking right into yours now. _His lashes are longer than mine_. You know without looking into his mind that he remembers _that_ particular part of his dream. Finding you in his room, bare but for your long, brown cloak. 

For a moment, you stare at one another. Then he takes a deep breath. “Well. In for a chit, in for a credit,” he murmurs, and presses his mouth against yours. 

Oh, it’s soft. So _gentle_. The barest touch of lips, yet it makes you shiver. You place a hand on his cheek with a happy hum, so glad you were able to convince him. Obi-Wan answers with a satisfied sound of his own, inching further into the kiss. When he presses harder, his moustache threatens to go up your nose. You pull away instinctively, fighting not to giggle. 

“Not good?” Obi-Wan’s mouth is still inches from your own, his innocent question full of concern. 

“No, it’s fine. But you’re a little,” you grin, “fuzzy.” 

“Oh.” His hand drops to his mouth as if he’d never considered it before. “You’re right, I suppose. It _is_ getting to be a bit much. Should I shave it?” 

“No!”

“Trim it, then.”

“Later,” you breathe, coming for his lips at a less direct angle. 

“Mm! _Mmm…_ ” 

The urgency of his tone betrays him as he claims your mouth again, more confident this time. Obi-Wan’s legs fall open loosely, and you crawl forward to sit between them, not _quite_ in his lap. His arms come around you, fingers _tight_ on your shoulder blades. You let your mouth fall open against his closed lips as you pant, heart hammering. Gods, he’s strong. The knowledge that he could easily be rough with you -- and yet his mind shows that all he wants is to be gentle -- only makes you want him more. 

Obi-Wan’s lips open against yours in turn, and you whimper at his breath mingling with your own, hot and inquisitive. You curl a hand in his hair, wondering if he’ll have the reaction you imagined in your Force projection. He doesn’t disappoint -- with a needy little gasp, he pulls you forward, effectively placing you onto the very erection he’s been trying so hard to hide. His cock _flexes_ up into your core. _Oh kriff yes_ there, your body sings, applying the lightest pressure back. 

This time Obi-Wan is the one to pull away, dropping his forehead to your cheek. You slide back to the floor, leaning back on your palms.

“Would now be a bad time to say that I have no idea what I’m doing?” he admits with a breathless laugh. His Force is trickling back open like he can’t seem to help it, and oh, do you like what you feel. 

You laugh too, just as flustered. “Doesn’t seem like it, Master.” 

“I’m flattered, but really. I’m rather clueless. I assume from the way you’ve spoken about attachments that you are...not.” You sense curiosity from him, though he says nothing more about it. In return, you offer your thoughts. It’s easier -- and far less embarrassing -- to _show_. Your eyes seek Obi-Wan’s, asking permission to join his life Force again. He inhales shakily, and you don’t miss how tightly his hands are clenched in his lap. 

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you re-enter, gentler this time. Truthfully, the experiences you have to offer aren’t that impressive. Fervent touches with a few fellow Knights who also had little to no experience, but passion in spades. Your hands on your own body, long after night had fallen at the Temple. Obi-Wan observes these parts of you, not critical or judgemental. Instead, you’re met only with his growing attraction to you, his consistent relief that what occurred on Odryn was not his fault ( _but you started it,_ you tease.). 

_And you?_ You prod. His Force shrinks a little, nervous, before opening to you further on the topic. 

He hadn’t lied. In conscious practice, there’s nothing. You sift through years and years of thought in fast-forward and he’s never even laid a hand on himself, though the urge to simmers far closer to the surface than he prefers. This...definitely explains the lack of certain _details_ in his dream. Aside from intimacy displayed by couples he’s seen out and about on-planet, he doesn’t have much to go on. This isn’t a topic they teach you as a youngling. Because why would a Jedi need to know? You remember your own firsts, everything coated with disquietude. 

“Told you,” he mutters, breaking your concentration. When you open your eyes, he’s giving you a classic Kenobi smirk. Uncertainty lingers behind the kind crinkle of his eyes, anxiety that he can’t quite banish. Neither of you address it. “Are you still so eager to break the rules?” _Do_ I _still appeal to you?_

In answer, you graze your mouth over his once more. When you tug at Obi-Wan’s bottom lip with your teeth, the pile of sparring sticks in the corner collapses and scatters. 

“This _is_ a training room,” you say between kisses, adrenaline flooding your veins at the _noises_ he’s making. Quiet gasps ascend into groans the more daring you get with your tongue, his fingers trembling on your shoulder. “So we should make the best of it. Get some more experience under our belts.” 

“I like -- your phrasing,” Obi-Wan manages. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to _stop talking_ ," one of his hands snakes to your ass and you squeak in surprise, "and _come here_." 

_Gladly_ , you have time to think at him, before he grabs your hips and _lifts_ you right back into his lap. Nothing shy about it this time -- he's put you directly on his clothed cock. 

Now _you're_ the one caught off guard, and he can sense it all over you. How badly you want it. How long you've imagined. You must _smell_ like need. Locking eyes with you, Obi-Wan rolls his hips into your cunt, slow and purposeful. When you whine, something seems to _click_ in his expression -- like he's filing the information away. 

_I see._

_See wh-- !_

But you're not allowed to finish the thought. In one motion, Obi-Wan is rising up and over you, crowding you onto the floor under him. You lie there, the training mat stiff underneath you, as he continues to survey you. His hips press yours firmly into the floor, a delicious pressure as you lie flat and he sits astride you. 

“There are several options running through your mind, little one,” he says at last, and you blush. No one’s called you that since you were a youngling, tripping over the hem of your robes and envying the Padawans with their lightsabers. To hear him refer to you as _little_ , when you’re pinned under his arousal, does something to you. “Show me the one you want the most.” 

Licking your lips at the way his curious look has morphed to one of hunger, you offer the image that has gotten you to climax for the past few nights. You had been desperate to be claimed by the one person who hadn’t seemed to want you. 

_How things have changed,_ you muse, watching his eyes go wide as he watches the scene play out in his own mind. Obi-Wan’s full lips part on a silent moan as it vanishes, blinking back to reality slowly. 

“Yes. Yes, I think we can manage that.” His voice is so soft, a contrast to the hard press of his cock and hips. “Pull your tunic up for me.” 

You scramble to obey, exposing the flat planes of your stomach, then the curve of your breasts. The sturdy material of the tunic is gathered up near your neck, leaving your torso bare for him. Obi-Wan reaches down to swipe the pad of his thumb over one nipple, making you squirm under his hold. He purrs at the desperate sensation it incites in your core, feeling it almost as you do through the Force.

Staying silent as he’d asked you to, you nonetheless beg him to hurry, both with your eyes and through the Force. You _know_ he wants this just as badly -- can feel the stiffness of his cock and the arousal pooling in his gut as surely as if it was your own body -- yet he takes his time here. 

So when he finally palms his dick through his trousers, forcing it flat against your stomach, you mewl for him. Your hands reach up to dig into his thighs, urging him on. 

Exhaling through his nose, Obi-Wan continues to palm himself through the material, sucking in a gasp when he finally lets himself wrap a hand around it and _squeeze_. 

“Out of everything you imagined,” he murmurs, undoing the ties on his pants deftly, “ _this_ is really what you want most?” His erection peeks out at you now, straining his underwear. With a bob of Obi-Wan’s hand, that too is pulled out of the way. _Fucking -- Maker --_

“Yes,” you whimper, mouth _watering_ for it. 

It feels like you’ve waited years to have Obi-Wan’s heavy, naked cock lying full on your stomach. He’s thicker than anyone you’ve been with, and flushed red with want. The tip is already dripping, warm on your cool skin. He grabs it firmly in his right hand, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he gives it a slow pull. Powerless to stop yourself from wanting a closer look, you prop yourself up on your elbows. Your heart jumps to your throat as the extra attention makes him flush. 

Those lovely eyes, framed by copper lashes, dart away from yours as he tugs harder, biting a knuckle to keep from crying out. Kriff, you wish he wouldn’t. You want his overstimulated sounds almost as much as you want his come smearing your chest. 

One hand works his shaft at an increasing pace as the other tenses in the material of his tunic. "Always -- so much," he confesses in a gasp. "Such a m-mess to wake up to." And indeed, pre-come is dribbling down his cock and hand in rivulets now, pooling below your belly button. 

"I've never," he shudders, shoulders tensing, "never done this -- on purpose --" Obi-Wan looks down at you, not really seeing, brows knitted with desperation. The normally composed Jedi is falling apart, and it’s driving you _insane_. "I can _f-feel_ it about to happen." In his fist, his cock is making obscenely wet sounds as he covers it with his own juices. 

"How -- how close?" you ask, unable to take your eyes off of the way he's working his hips in tight little thrusts now. Fucking into his hand like no matter how fast he strokes, it won’t be enough. You feel like your hips will be bruised by how hard he’s pinning you into the training mat, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. 

“ _Close --_ ” he whines, ducking his head, face screwed up as he pants. Obi-Wan’s hand and wrist are a blur as he pleasures himself, balls drawing up in anticipation. His hair is a mess, so untidy from its normal neat part, and you wish you could run your hands through it. “Oh, gods -- _oh, gods --_ ” His Force is _blazing_ with the chase, teetering on the edge of an orgasm he’s never been able to fully experience. _Going to come all over you, stars, feels so **good** \--_

“Please, Master, _please,_ ” you beg, shoving his hips further up your torso. You’re soaking in your underwear, waiting for him to mark you. 

You see it in his eyes three seconds before it happens. They go completely round with wonder, a hand slamming over his mouth as the first spurts of hot come streak your stomach. 

_Little one, stars -- I’m coming, I’m coming -- oh f-fuck **fuck --**_

Though Obi-Wan hardly lets more than a whimper escape past his own hand, you hear everything loud and clear in your mind. It’s every bit as intense as you remember from that day on Odryn, and you _clench_ as his aftershocks roll through your empty cunt. Rope after rope of come covers your chest, from the bottom of your stomach to the hollow of your throat. The scent of it coats your nostrils, thick and musky and _Obi-Wan_. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed, hand falling from its grip over his mouth. “That -- that was…” 

“Messy,” you joke, offering a smile. _Incredible_ , you add as a hint of embarrassment creeps into your bond. When you reiterate how good it felt to watch him losing himself in the pleasure of it, he relaxes again. With a sigh, he eases off of your hips and tucks his wilting cock back into his trousers, settling down on his side next to you. 

“You do look rather pretty like that,” he admits quietly, cheeks still flushed from exertion. 

“Just wait until we actually take our clothes _off_ , Master.” 

“Pfft.” Obi-Wan leans in and kisses you, as gentle as the first time. “I have to tell you something,” he adds, voice lowered to a conspiratorial volume though you’re alone. 

“What is it?” 

“You taste like that dreadful tea they serve in the mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if I want Obi-Wan to be submissive or dominant, okay?! So have a little of both. Both is good. Please expect further softness and cuteness as well -- one, because I don't seem to know how to write smut without it, and two, because Obi-Wan deserves it :) 
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and well.  
> \--WickedScribbles


	3. Chapter 3

You're sure that all this sneaking around isn't part of the Code, either. But in the middle of a war, you and Obi-Wan take what you can get. With one or both of you needed off-planet more and more often, even being back at the Temple _to_ sneak around with one another is welcome. Disputes between Republic and Separatist planets are only getting more tense. As Jedi, you both have your duties. Obi-Wan as a General, and you as a healer. 

Life is busy, sometimes overwhelming and scary. Whether you’re on the front line, holding the hand of a soldier, or home on Coruscant tending to Jedi and low-level civilians. The thing that keeps your gut from gnawing itself to pieces with worry for Obi-Wan is your comm blinking with his encrypted message. One word; _safe_. He never forgets. Though you can’t feel through your bond off-planet, you can at least relax enough to sleep before typing your own reply. _Safe_. No matter where you are, he insists on knowing the same is true on your end. 

So when you feel a flicker of him among the hundreds of other souls coming in and out of the Temple, you don’t hesitate to reach out in excitement. Obi-Wan hadn’t said when he’d arrive the last time you were able to speak, just that he would be back at the Temple soon. Forgetting yourself, you push out for his own life Force, a wordless wave of happiness. The colicky baby you’re comforting in the creche feels it too, going from the brink of a tantrum to a wide-eyed smile. 

_!!!!_

_Hello there,_ he says, answering with his own push of delight that you’ve found him, that you’re home too. Underneath it runs a silent warning in the form of his usual anxiety. However happy you both are, you must be quieter. You tell him you understand, duck your head though he’s not there in the room to admonish you. 

Obi-Wan’s nerves fade, replaced by the usual rush of curiosity that bubbles up from both of you after an absence. There will be dozens of questions, when you're together to talk. It’s difficult to have a real conversation through the commlink without raising suspicion, so reunions are full of stories. For now, though, you ask only one. 

_Where are you?_

_Come and see,_ he says mysteriously. You can almost see the grin on his face. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary antics, but can’t bite back a smile. Negotiations must have gone well for him to be teasing you. 

The baby fusses again in your arms, and you stroke his head to soothe him. “I know, Myn. We’ll get you to bed, _then_ see where Master Kenobi is hiding. Now, let's help you feel better.” 

\----

He's not where you expect him to be. 

After an unsuccessful visit to each of his favorite spots, you find the scoundrel sitting in the main refectory. In a room meant for hundreds, only around a dozen mill about or eat at this hour. Each long table has an average of only one or two occupants, and most of the holodisplays are buzzing on standby. Droids roll around, mopping tables and cleaning spills. The transparisteel windows are open, letting in a nice evening breeze. Obi-Wan is one of the few, looking out of place in armor. He must have _really_ just gotten home, then. 

Your breath catches to even recognize the back of his head. Between your conflicting schedules, almost three weeks have passed since you've seen him. Gods, you wish you could _run_ over. Wish you could beam at him, in this public space, wrap him up and breathe him in. He'd smell a little strange, blaster fire and recycled air and foreign planets. But under it all, undeniably Obi-Wan. Jedi Master, War General, and secret giver of the best hugs. 

_Not just hugs,_ you sigh to yourself, thinking of the last time he was home. Every step you force yourself to walk over to him only makes the memory that much clearer. As inexperienced as the both of you'd started, Master Obi-Wan was proving to be an attentive and voracious partner. Seeming as eager to please as he was to learn, you never left disappointed. After his initial reluctance for intimacy, you'd watched him shyly blossom under the attention you gave him. 

In return, your accidental Force bond positively _shines,_ and being connected to another living being this way is an experience you wouldn't trade for anything -- sexual encounters or not. You find yourself similar to him in ways that surprise and delight you -- and your differences aren’t so monumental. After all, the most tender parts of your minds, your _souls_ , are often laid bare for one another. Though it's only been months, you feel so comfortable with him, and he with you. Any concerns or discomforts are hard or impossible to hide. In this way, the bond often forces honesty.

It doesn’t surprise you that Obi-Wan isn’t alone at his table. Seen as something of a celebrity among the younglings and Padawans, they tend to swarm him when they get an opportunity. He’s ever-patient about it, always managing to find time for them, which you find unbearably sweet. Sitting with him now is a familiar group of young Padawans. They seem intent on asking questions how to improve their saber technique at every turn, though they’ve only just built their own weapons. 

Children their age aren’t exactly your specialty. It always makes your stomach roil with nerves when you think that soon you must take your own Padawan. But even you have to admit that they’re sweet, all nerf-tails and braids and wide eyes. They hang onto Master Kenobi’s every word. A check of your bond reveals that he’s in full lecture mode, and isn’t even aware that you’re behind him. He’s busy making sure that the way he explains the difference in lightsaber forms is easy for them to understand, while still being comprehensive. 

It’s almost a shame when Master Windu locates his Padawan, the ringleader, and scolds the group away for bothering Obi-Wan when he’s trying to enjoy a late dinner. You were enjoying the explanation of the differences between Juyo and Vaapad. Though the topic was a little advanced for the group, Master Obi-Wan rarely turns away an honest question. 

"Did you do that just to make me walk around the entire Temple?" you say after they’ve cleared out. "I checked the gardens, the library, the Fountain Room, the docking bay…" 

Obi-Wan lights up when he hears you, turning with an easy smile that morphs into a look of mischief. This time _he's_ the one to reach out through the bond, and you accept it as willingly as a full embrace. You take the seat across from him, keeping your body language casual though you can’t help beaming. Obi-Wan looks just as pleased -- arms crossed on the table though his Force tells you he’d love to take your hand. You know he’s right to worry; you can’t take bold chances. Everyone must be fooled into thinking that what’s developed between you is a friendship, and nothing more, if you’re to get away with this. 

"I wasn't _hiding_. I really did come straight here. You've had what they serve on the clone ships." A wrinkle of displeasure travels mutually between you. Food served in the Temple couldn't exactly be called the height of luxury, but what they served the troops was downright flavorless. You've never heard a clone complain about it, bless them. In front of him sits an empty bowl and a half-finished cup of what has to be tea. 

"Fine. I _guess_ I'll forgive you." The look you give him is a little too cheeky, but no one's watching. 

"Oh, a _thousand_ thanks," he replies, every bit as taunting. He places his chin in his hand and smirks, looking far too cute in far too public of a setting. _Maker, he’s starting to figure it out, isn’t he? The effect he has on you._ He’s dangerous in many ways, but this might be the most threatening he’s ever been. 

“Got you something,” you announce, changing the subject. You hope he doesn’t notice the deep breath you have to take to steady yourself. Before he can protest -- because you know without looking up that Obi-Wan _will_ protest -- you untie a pouch from your belt. 

Sure enough, he’s got the _look_. Normally reserved for Anakin, it’s all disapproval and scrunched brows. And of course, it’s still attractive. How does Anakin get anything done? _Anakin doesn’t have the kind of daydreams you do._ At least, he probably doesn’t. 

“I thought we’d discussed this. It isn’t wise to --” 

“Master,” you interrupt, unwrapping the package. The fancy paper crinkles under your fingers, and you're trying not to make a lot of noise. “I’m pretty sure that this won’t blow our cover.” 

“Well, I still don’t --” 

You peel back the plastic sleeve on the package, revealing half a dozen cookies. They’re an off-planet delicacy you’d discovered in a little tea shop in the mid-levels, each about as big around as your pinky finger is long. Each is a different flavor, with some sort of icing sandwiched between two halves of the confection. All you know for sure is that the sample you’d been coaxed into trying had melted like butter on your tongue. You were handing over credits before the Twi’lek behind the counter had to persuade you any further. 

“ -- oh!” His reproach melts away in seconds. “You’ve brought biscuits. I - I suppose that’s fine.” 

“Oh, I see how it is.” you tease, pulling one out and handing it to him. It looks like your hunch to bring this gift is right on the money; you’ve seen how keen he is to get to the refectory on the nights they serve desserts. A part of you -- a very un-Jedi part -- had been thinking of him. Had wanted to _get_ him something, something that would sit on the desk in your room until he returned, something small enough that he wouldn't fuss over it. You'd wanted to spoil him in the tiniest of ways, knowing how hard he drives himself. 

Obi-Wan takes it with barely disguised delight. You watch him bite into it, amused, thinking of all the times he and the other Masters have lectured you on the ways of a Jedi. Something about conquering curiosity would have been said, had the positions been flipped. “Do you like it?” 

He nods happily, licking a crumb from the corner of his mouth. "'S _good_."

You try not to focus on the pink tip of his tongue, how quickly it slips over his lip and then disappears again. That tongue had been your undoing, only weeks ago. _Stop thinking about that here!_

His eyes dart down to the package, and you know he wants another one. 

"Take one, I got them for you." You pry another loose, offering it easily. It makes you happy to see him let himself want something -- and to know that you can give it to him. The Code has its purposes, sure. But sometimes it's nice to detach from grace and serenity, and just... _enjoy_. 

As long as you aren't devastating your own way of life, razing it to the ground as former Jedi-turned-Sith have done, you see no harm in feeding Obi-Wan Kenobi a cookie. Or doing other things with him, far from prying eyes. 

He doesn't seem to see it as a capital offense either, and lets you feed him the second one with a happy hum. His eyes flutter closed for a moment as he savors the taste, far sweeter than anything they serve here in the refectory. When he finishes this one, a blue crumb sticks to his bottom lip. 

"Master." 

"Mm?" He tilts his head ever so slightly, blue crumb not budging. 

"You've got something." 

"Got -- got what?" 

"On your _face_ ," you struggle to keep your tone even, hold in a laugh. He looks -- he looks silly. One eyebrow quirked, no idea what you're talking about though it should be obvious. Master Obi-Wan, cookie crumbs on his face, looking at you like _you're_ the one two screws short of a saber hilt. 

Predictably, when he puts a hand to his mouth to brush it away, he's nowhere near the actual crumb. This goes on for several frustrating seconds, until you finally look to see if anyone's watching and brush it away yourself. Your thumb lingers on his bottom lip. 

"Gosh. You were a parsec away," you chuckle, savoring the memory of his very real confusion. 

But something in his gaze has shifted. Obi-Wan looks right at you, your thumb still light on his bottom lip, and licks a slow stripe over the pad of it. 

The bond, so carefully shielded after you greeted one another, breaks open like a crust. Desire builds on his end, warmth that soon becomes an unbearable heat. It feels like it's flooding you, a steady stream in your chest, your limbs, your feet. You spare a thought to sift through the Force for the others in the room, too captivated with what’s in front of you to _look_. No one feels shocked or surprised or even interested in you. 

Parting his lips further, Obi-Wan takes your thumb into his mouth and _sucks_ , only for a moment, but you shudder. This is so damn _bold_ of him, this tiny thing, but it sends you spiraling. 

_Sometimes you don't make it easy to think clearly._

You pull your hand away, hearing him speak in your mind. Everything he's _not_ saying, out loud or through the bond, swirls between you. How he's been aching for you since you realized he'd arrived back at the Temple. How hard it's been to hold back from doing all the things that you want to do, as soon as you laid eyes on one another. How he wants you, _now_. 

"My room or yours?" you murmur. 

"Mine." He answers, barely above a whisper. Though you know it's more logical to go there -- the Master's quarters are always less occupied -- a little thrill always runs through you. You watch his hands clench and unclench on the table, considering something. 

"Wait an hour before you join me," he adds. 

_An hour?_ you whine. 

_Far less suspicious this way,_ he answers, though you can feel his returning tug of desire, of impatience. 

"What do you say if you're found outside my quarters?" 

"I'm watering Master Kenobi's plants while he's away," you recite. Not a lie in the slightest; you kept the growing collection in excellent health. _And_ it gave you a reason to be in his room every few days, whether he was actually on-planet or not. Watering the plants...taking in the smell of Obi-Wan that still clung to the bedsheets and robes, leaving your own scent.

"Good girl," he says. Again, your mind darts to the last time he'd praised you that way -- where his mouth had been. Immediately, he seems to remember too; color floods his cheeks and he’s suddenly _very_ interested in the tabletop. 

You brighten at the words, even as he blushes to say it so publicly. Like he hadn't just been suckling your finger. Not exactly what a Master would say to a Padawan -- and you haven't been a Padawan in years. His blue eyes burn into yours with a hunger, and you feel one last little touch through the bond before he gets up from the table. He doesn’t look back. 

Lingering a little longer, you head to the Fountain Room with a long sigh. Meditating away your arousal is _not_ going to be easy. 

The hour passes in uncomfortable slowness. You haven't been this unfocused in meditation since you were a youngling, but you're squirming for a different reason. It takes almost forty minutes for the roar of the fountains to lull you to relaxation, and once you realize that the hour has almost passed, you slip and have to start all over. Even Obi-Wan would scold you for the way you shift and fidget, the living Force all around you but your mind too disconnected to reach out. 

So you resort to pretending. You remain in a meditative stance, but simply count in your head instead. It’s a Padawan trick, and part of you feels guilty, even though there’s no one around to watch. You almost expect Master Rancisis to slither up behind you, insisting that he was not angry, only disappointed. 

When the hour finally trickles to an end, you get to your feet. It takes a fair amount of restraint not to break into a jog when you reach the end of the Temple where Knights and Masters live. Muscle memory takes you easily to the door of Obi-Wan’s room, though it’s identical to the others around it. 

_Knock knock_ , you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet outside the door. In response, the lock clicks open. You slide inside and close the door in one motion, locking it again behind you. 

Obi-Wan’s room is structured much like every other Jedi’s quarters. It looks quite like your own. Each sports the same bed, wallpaper, desk. The differences are its inhabitant, and the rank of Master. 

While your room is boxy, not leaving much space to move, Obi-Wan’s can easily be walked around in. Potted plants adorn the small windowsill, beginning to crowd it. He’s been able to get more since you started watering them. The short bookshelf next to the bed has watermarks on the end from how many times he’s placed a teacup there. In the corner, he even has an attached fresher -- the source of much envy when you first found out. 

But all this would feel empty without Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on the bed, out of his armor and looking freshly showered. His boots are tucked neatly at the foot of the bed, so he sits in his sock feet. An unguarded, toothy grin lights up his face as he lifts his arms for a hug. The bond _slams_ together two seconds before you get there, mingling and tasting and feeling each other’s life Force without restraint. You embrace him tightly, burying your own smile in his neck as the two of you fall back on the mattress. 

_Missed you_ , you say, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It makes him squeeze you tighter, his sigh moving a few strands of your hair. 

Your life Force is a little too jumbled right now, overwhelmed with his closeness, both in your mind and in your arms. Images roll from you in ways you don’t really mean to send them. Obi-Wan, head ducked between your legs, the last time he was home. Your own hands, plucking dead leaves from one of the plants on the sill. Bending over a clone trooper, gently encouraging his wound to close with the Force. The lowest, most-poverty stricken levels of Coruscant. Setting up a clinic tent there with a few other healers when you’re not occupied with other war efforts. A little girl squealing in excitement when she realized she got a sweet for being good during her treatment. 

In return, Obi-Wan shows you his own line of thought, and where he’s been. The way your lip wobbled when he’d looked up from eating you out, pupils huge and eyes pleading. How that image had been enough to make him spill in his hand in one of the _Resolute’s_ freshers, a week later. The sweaty-humid jungles of Felucia, the heat making his tunics stick to his skin. Anakin singing some shanty with the 501st on the ride home, in high spirits. Commander Cody shaking his head when his own boys started in, making the lyrics even dirtier. (Obi-Wan had held Ahsoka’s lekku tight so she didn’t hear anything after that.) How _good_ you smell to him now, all vanilla and grass after a thunderstorm and something he can never identify. 

“I’m willing to bet,” he says, shifting you both so that you lie side by side, “that I missed you far more.” 

“Master,” you say innocently. “It’s not a competition.” You slide your thigh between his legs, pleased at how readily he allows it, how he draws you closer. His cock presses against you, almost fully hard. The pressure elicits a small gasp from him, and a smirk from you. 

Obi-Wan thinks on your remark for a moment. “No,” he admits. “But there may be a struggle.” 

And with that, he claims your mouth with his own. He feels so warm, so _safe_. Calloused fingers slide up to caress your face, and you melt even more. 

Though both of you are wound tight with anticipation, his kisses drag slow over your lips, sweet and lingering. You let him lead, a little dazed when one of his hands starts trailing absently up and down your side. He tastes like the cookies you fed him. The dominant note of sugar overcomes the usual flavor of Obi-Wan that you're used to, though it's hard to complain. 

You curl yourself closer, tighter into his chest, wanting as much contact as possible. Being with Obi-Wan makes you feel vulnerable in a way you never get to be otherwise. There's a part of you that wants to be tended to. Maybe it comes from being raised among dozens of other children in the creche, with no minder giving you specific care or attention beyond what was required. A lesson _before_ the lesson, that Jedi were not supposed to form attachments this way. It's too late for you now -- no matter what you'd promised Obi-Wan, you are very much attached. 

"Your thoughts betray you, dear one," Obi-Wan murmurs in the shell of your ear. You can hear his smile through the gentle scolding. Like he isn't just as fond of you. 

"And your body betrays _you_ ," you shoot back, rubbing your thigh against his dick once more. It jerks at the attention, always eager to make itself known when you're involved. 

He laughs a little at that, the sound low and conceding. "So it does." 

"What will we do about it?" you ask. You lean in and place a string of kisses down his throat, teasing the sensitive place right below his ear. His shaky inhale and flash of excitement through the bond tell you all you need to know about how it affects him. 

“ _Anything_ ,” says Obi-Wan. "Anything you want." You hear him swallow, trying to keep it together. Collecting himself, using the patience that comes with the training of a Jedi Master. You can see him losing his grip, but it's not enough. You want him utterly _lost_. 

But as luck would have it, you have a trick up your sleeve that might change things. 

"I want _this_ ," you reach down and grab his dick, giving it a firm squeeze, "inside me." 

His breathing grows harsher. "We -- I -- we _can't_." Even as he arches into your touch, wanting it. You can feel the damp spot through the thin material of his trousers, evidence of his excitement for you. Gods, he looks good like this. Not letting up, you cup Obi-Wan's erection harder, unable to bite back a whine of your own. 

Obi-Wan had refused to enter you without guaranteed protection, which for him meant something more reliable than condoms. (Stars, no matter how much you _begged_.) An implant chip had been difficult, but not impossible, for you to get. 

"We can. See?" 

You flex the implanted arm, where the chip sits underneath the surface of the skin. His eyes track the movement, then a finger comes up to trace the tiny device. 

"You really got it," he says, almost to himself. The finger presses gently into your arm, moving the chip in little circles. Like he's checking to make sure it's really there. "I didn't think…" 

"Didn't think it would ever be a possibility?" you finish. "I have my connections, Master." 

Obi-Wan sends a wave of suspicion through the bond, so you show him how it was obtained. As a Jedi healer, you keep in contact with other medical centers throughout Coruscant, trade resources and sometimes favors. It just so happens that you were able to stop by in plainclothes and receive the implant, off-record, from one of your colleagues. Paid for, of course. Evidence of your visit just _happened_ to disappear from the data system after your friend inserted the chip. 

"I can't say I entirely agree with your methods," he admits. "Still, I much prefer it to you risking one from the black market." 

"I wouldn't take that kind of chance." 

"I know." He kisses your cheek. "You're smarter than that. But desperation can drive us to do things we normally wouldn't." 

You squirm, happy that he's okay with what you've done, but getting restless. In your hand, his cock hasn't softened a bit, but from the way he's speaking, you wouldn't think it. How does he _do_ it? The Knights you'd been with before hadn't had a quarter of his self control. Then again, they aren't half the man that Obi-Wan is. 

"Speaking of desperation." You let out a small laugh, half breathlessness, half embarrassment. Your pulse is racing, and you know he can tell how badly you want him. "Please, Master? Take me?" 

And you feel the waver. His serenity shivering like a mirage in the sand. The physical proof of how hard he's trying to keep it together in your hand jolts again at your words, how politely you beg for him. You know he loves it. 

"Little one." His voice is low in your ear, something about the tone strange and new and _dangerous_. "Are you sure you know what you're asking for?" 

You nod vigorously. "Obi-Wan, I -- I've wanted this for so long. _Yes_." 

A flicker of uncertainty shows in his eyes as his hand comes up to cup your cheek once more. "So have I. But if I were to...to _hurt_ you, you must tell me immediately. We can stop as soon as you say. And --" His anxiety is running away, and you break in to stop it. 

"Hey. _Hey_ ," you put a finger to his lips, and he frowns at the interruption. "Obi-Wan. Listen to the Force. Feel me." 

With a shaky breath, he does. Trusting in the Force is something he's been doing his whole life, and asking him to do it now helps calm him down. His half of your bond reaches, nerves spread over his emotions like thorns. When all you have to show him is your eagerness, your excitement, your _joy_ that you finally get to do this with him, much of it relaxes. 

_I very much want you, Master Kenobi. It will not hurt. Unless...I want it to._

He's silent for a long moment, contemplating your implication. Then, "Trousers off, sweetest." 

_Yes!_

Obi-Wan chuckles at your mental cheering, while you get to your feet and struggle out of your pants and underwear. He follows suit, sitting up on the bed and making quick work of his own clothes. You pause in taking off your tunic, because _stars._

If you think he's pretty with clothes _on_ , it's nothing compared to him looking up at you naked. His toned body is covered in fine, coppery hair, and adorned with a scattering of scars. You love to hear him tell their stories. What you love most, though, are the freckles. Almost gold in color and not visible when he's wearing robes, you feel like there are thousands spanning across every inch of the normally hidden skin. Like they exist just for you to kiss and worship. Miniature sunspots, marking his time in the galaxy. 

This is the first time he's been fully naked for you, and Obi-Wan seems shy about being on display while you're still half dressed. _You are so gorgeous,_ you think. His cock arcs up toward his belly, leaking a little at the tip. You all but lick your lips, watching a drop of pre-come dribble down his shaft. You _want_ it inside you.

"Then take it," he murmurs, eyes darting back up to yours. One hand pats his own naked thigh, an invitation. His legs spread further, and you moan. "Come here, darling." 

You don't need any more persuading. Even if you're nervous, you can't see yourself waiting one second longer for this. So you cross the small distance, crawl toward him on the mattress, and let Obi-Wan wrap his arms around you. 

At first, that's where it stays. He sighs into your chest, breathing in the scent of you. You squeak when he reaches around and squeezes your bare ass with one hand, giving you a wry smile. The look almost says, _Well? Are you going to ride my dick or not?_ You’re overwhelmed with how much of him there is to touch, how _fucking nice_ he looks, just sitting there waiting for you. Like he could do it all day, no matter what his dick is saying. Patient and perfect and kind. 

So you scoot closer, brushing your wet slit against his length. His nails grip into your naked skin, holding on tight as he watches your face. You relish the idea of his neatly kept fingernails leaving little marks on your hips and ass, where no one will know but you. You take him in your hand, lining him up with your opening, and Obi-Wan bites his lip -- hard. Still not letting more than the softest of gasps leave his mouth.

But as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury his cockhead in your wet warmth, that changes fast. He's barely inside you, testing both of your limits. You rock your hips a little, adjusting to the feeling of having something so _large_ there, though you know this is just the beginning. Obi-Wan looks up at you, eyes huge, stock-still. You can _feel_ him holding back, that perfect composure crumbling. 

"This -- alright?" he asks, voice strained as if it's taking everything in him not to push you down onto his entire length. 

You run a hand over his chest, taking a moment to appreciate the situation. 

"More than," you say, hitching your hips higher. His cock sinks further, only a little, but each of you responds to the sensation. When you try a shallow thrust, Obi-Wan makes a sound suspiciously like a growl. 

"Then _please,_ " he bites out. 

"Please what?" you pull back until his tip sits inside your slit, and you swear he _whines_. You clench on nothing, wanting him fully seated inside you as much as he does, but teasing him like this is getting both of you so worked up. 

" _More_ ," he gasps. "need you _deeper, gods,_ don't -- don't tease me --" 

_Finally._ You grin down at him, glad that he's stopped trying to act so composed. His face is flushed with the embarrassment of saying such a thing out loud, but he's looking right at you, determined to make you understand how much he _needs_ it. Obi-Wan tugs at your tunic, hands insisting that it come off and _now_. You raise your arms and let him strip you bare, not missing the hungry look he gives your tits. 

"Of course. All you had to do was ask," you say, and sink onto him completely. 

You see his eyes roll back, and he does nothing to stifle the moan of relief and pleasure that rises from his throat. It echoes in the small space, sending dual shivers of fear and excitement through you. He realizes his mistake, uneasiness bristling in his Force signature. 

_Kriff_ , you wish that you weren’t doing this in the Temple right now. Because as delicious as he is trying to keep quiet -- all round eyes and stifled whimpers -- you’re greedy. You want _more_ ; your name in his mouth, on a desperate cry as he comes. Obi-Wan’s always so _loud_ in your mind, in his pleasure, you can’t imagine what it would be like if he was actually using his voice. Hopefully being with him somewhere less... _populated_ is something you can do in the future. For now, you work with what you’ve got. Starting a shallow rhythm, you ride Obi-Wan’s cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” you hiss, hands turning to claws as you scramble for something to hold onto. One wraps around Obi-Wan’s shoulder while the other finds purchase against his chest, your nails digging hard in his skin. He covers the hand with his own, making yours look tiny in comparison. 

“Lan -- _guage_ \--” he says in the middle of a deeper thrust from you, caught off guard. You can only laugh, breathless, too focused on keeping a reasonable volume yourself. It’s like you can feel every single curve and vein of him, like his cock was made to fit snug against your walls. Obi-Wan’s starting to meet your hips with every thrust, chest heaving with his ragged breath. He yanks you closer, your bodies parallel now instead of you sitting on him. 

His pupils are blown wide in those deep blue eyes as he fucks you harder, nearly lifting you off of him with the force of it. At this point, you don’t have to do anything but sit there and _take_ it. 

“Obi- _wan_ ,” you whine. Tension is coiling deep in your stomach, and you’re powerless to stop yourself from giving your throbbing clit attention. But when he realizes what you’re trying to do, he bats your hand away and does it himself, calloused fingers providing a rough stimulus to the most sensitive part of your body. He pinpoints it in seconds, caressing and stroking just the way you like it. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeak you can’t bite back, spreading your legs further under his soaked fingers. 

“If you’re coming,” he growls in your ear, not far off himself, “then I’m going to be the one responsible.” 

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck --_

Maybe it’s the expert way he’s manhandling your body. Maybe it’s the way he’s _still_ thrusting inside you, breath getting higher and more ragged as you sense him getting closer to his orgasm. Maybe it’s the way his half of the bond is blown wide open, a door left open in a storm, banging against its hinges. Obi-Wan’s thoughts are a barrage on your mind, relentless, almost too much to handle in such a sensitive state. 

_Gods so beautiful could look at you all day -- you’re going to come for me, darling, aren’t you? -- I love the way you look you feel so amazing around me so tight so wet so perfect --_

It’s _too much_. Hand still tight over your mouth, you sob and _come_ , bucking against his fingers as the contractions wrack your body in pulse after pulse. He’s generous enough to thrust more gently as you shiver through it, his eyes glued to the curve of your throat, how you’ve thrown your head back. Your thoughts are a blaze of nothing but _Obi-Wan_.

When you catch your breath, you slide off of him in one motion, feeling slick drip down your thighs. The mix of confusion and panic that shoots through the bond would have made you laugh, if you weren’t so turned on and orgasm-fuzzy. 

“Your turn, Master,” you say, sinking onto your back with your legs across his lap. You wiggle there, teasing. “On top. Come for me -- please?” 

For a few seconds, he does nothing. Then the realization of what you want, what you’ve _said_ , hits him. Obi-Wan rushes over you like a tsunami, caging you against the bed. His cockhead brushes your sensitive slit and you arch into it, not shy about how badly you want this. When he lines himself up and sinks deep inside you, he buries the sound he makes into your shoulder, teeth grazing your collarbone. He starts thrusting at a brutal pace, forcing your breath out of you with every push in. You scratch at his back, helpless to control yourself, and that only makes him fuck you harder. 

“Little -- one,” he grits out, hot breath on your skin. 

“Y--es?” 

“This -- won’t last long.” Obi-Wan’s pace is getting erratic even as he says it. “Where do y-you want --?”

“Inside me,” you answer without hesitation. “Obi-Wan, please, _inside_ , come for me, _please --_ ” 

_Oh my **gods,** sweetest, yes -- **yes** \-- oh, oh, oh --!_

He doesn’t need any more persuading. Three more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you, hot and deep, planted as far in as he can get. He bites down on your shoulder through it, chest flat against your own. You find yourself hoping he leaves a mark. You roll your hips, loving the broken moans it drives from his lips. 

Obi-Wan stays inside you after it’s over, nestling his head on your shoulder. Contentment swirls in his life Force, an almost drunken sense of relief and euphoria making him drowsy. You twine your own through it, letting him know you’ve been equally satisfied. It feels so _right_ to lie here with him, a tangle of limbs and Force, knowing one another in every way. He hums in your ear, one hand stroking your hair sleepily. Though you’ve lived in this Temple your whole life, you’ve never felt more at home. 

“Darling,” he says, voice lilting. You feel him stirring inside you, starting to harden again already. 

“Yes?” 

“Let’s go again.” 

That’s a surprise. You expected him to politely but firmly insist you clean up in the fresher and then make yourself scarce, lest someone get suspicious about where you’ve gone to. Your silence must confirm that you’re taken aback, because he continues. 

“I ship out again tomorrow.” 

When you curse this time, he only laughs. “Such is war, love. Are you up for it, or not?” 

You can’t refuse him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, there's a little more plot than I'd anticipated. Oops. JUST LET ME FEED OBI-WAN COOKIES. The man deserves it okay.  
> Also, the clones are singing “Drunken Sailor”, but make it “Drunken Trooper”. Because I could so clearly see them doing it in my head that I had to make it happen.  
> I have a lot more ideas for this little project! But if anyone has suggestions/things they'd like to see, feel free to ask. :) 
> 
> Love, WickedScribbles.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! I'm an Obi-Wan simp now! To celebrate, I decided to start this little series. This will be a collection of smut chapters, with little to no plot. I had so much fun writing this - worrying about the complexities of plot has been a little stressful, so it's nice to just sit back in the ol' office chair and write some red hot smut, you know? If I start to try and force a plot into this, someone slap me. I'm serious.
> 
> Another thing - my other Star Wars universe series, Star in the Dust, may be on hold for a little longer than I anticipated. I've continued to have health issues and was in the emergency room a few days ago. I'm okay now, but still generally feel like garbage. I just want to relax and write something like this right now. I don't plan to abandon SitD, but it will be on a hiatus. Thanks for understanding!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed Come What May, and its future chapters. :)  
> Stay safe and stay well.  
> -WickedScribbles


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